


Potions Master

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Hogwarts, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: “They said that you didn’t offer career advice to half bloods.”Teenage Severus is a Potions prodigy, but in a school focused on the sporty, popular and non-Death-Eater-wannabe kids, his talents go unnoticed.  Until, one day, Professor Slughorn calls him into his office...





	Potions Master

**Author's Note:**

> This originally stemmed from an Tumblr prompt.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Ah, Severus,” Slughorn beamed at the student before him, as the rest of the NEWT class filed out of the dungeon.  “This way, my boy.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he followed Slughorn from the seventh year Potions classroom and into his sumptuous office.  Unlike Lucius, and Regulus, and countless other Slytherins, he’d never been invited into Slughorn’s office.  He’d certainly never had an invite into the Slug Club.  Not that this was a Slug Club invitation.  Not at quarter past four on a Tuesday.

Snape loitered awkwardly in the doorway, clutching his schoolbag against his slight frame. Slughorn turned from the ornate cabinet where he was pouring himself a drink, and waved Snape in.  “Do sit down, do sit down!”  

Snape shuffled forward, and Slughorn flicked his wand, causing the door to slam shut.  “A seat, Severus!” Slughorn repeated, as he sank heavily into his own chair.  

Snape approached the chair furthest from his housemaster, and slowly lowered his bag, perching himself on the very edge of the seat.  Slughorn frowned at the boy’s actions, and gave a small cough in displeasure, but did not comment.  He merely made a great show of summoning a side table and placing it before Snape, balancing his drink on it, and then pulling his own chair closer to the wary student.

“Now, my dear boy,” he started, “you are aware that you are supposed to attend a follow up session regarding your career choices?”

Snape didn’t answer.

“Accio,” Slughorn muttered, and a number of parchment pages flew through the air from his desk.  He quickly rifled through them.  “Where is it, where is it?  J…M…Parkinson, no, no, Rosier, no, aha!  Snape!”  He pulled one from the stack and held it triumphantly aloft, whilst banishing the rest to his desk. “Now, from your initial session before your OWLs…”

Slughorn fell silent as he stared in confusion at the blank parchment.  He turned it over, and back, and then over again.  Finally, he raised his head and looked at the sulky boy seated across from him.  “Ah, now, Severus.  This is a little embarrassing, but I don’t suppose I gave you the copy from your last session, did I?”

“I’ve never had a careers advice session, sir.”

“You’ve never ha-” Slughorn blustered, grabbing his handkerchief and running it dramatically over his forehead.  “You simply must have!  I see all the Slytherins!”

“Not me.  Sir.”  

Slughorn peered helplessly at the blank parchment before him.  “I’ve never…not once…I…”  He looked again at the boy before him, who was shifting awkwardly in his seat.  

“Can I go now, sir?”

“Why on earth didn’t you say something, boy?”

Snape sat silently, glaring at the ceiling, annoyed that he hadn’t been allowed to retreat to his common room.  He willed his housemaster to lose interest and cease his line of questioning.  When he eventually glanced back down and made eye contact, Slughorn was still peering intently at him.  Snape sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was low.  “I asked around.  The others said…”

“The others said what?”

He shrugged, as if it was of no importance, but his sallow cheeks filled with colour.  “They said that you didn’t offer career advice to half bloods.”

Slughorn thumped his fist against the small table between them.  “I OFFER CAREER ADVICE TO ALL!”

Snape tensed, and immediately gripped his wand.  Slughorn winced at the boy’s swift reaction.  

“No, no,” Slughorn said, quietly, placating him.  “I wasn’t angry with you.  Put your wand away, Severus.”  He stood, exhaled deeply, and strode over to the drinks cabinet.  He poured a generous measure of firewhisky into two fancy glasses. “Here,” he said, pressing one into Snape’s hand, who looked at it, eyes wide.

“Sir?”

“You’re of age, aren’t you, boy?”

“Sir.”

“Then drink.”  

Snape lifted the glass, almost recoiling as the fumes from the strong smelling liquid reached his nose. He looked at Slughorn, who had his own glass raised.

“Cheers,” said his teacher, and brought his lips to the rim of the glass.  

Snape did the same, and then his face twisted in anguish as the strong liquor burned his throat.  To his horror, he could feel a tear forming at the edge of his right eye.  He rubbed his sleeve against it, and when his vision cleared, he saw Slughorn smiling oddly at him.  

It was then that Snape noticed Slughorn’s glass was still full.  

“Ah, you youngsters. Always able to hold your liquor,” he laughed, and poured another generous measure into Snape’s now empty glass. “Still, I would take that one much more slowly, else this meeting will be over before it’s started.”  

Snape could feel his flush of embarrassment disappearing as he realised that Slughorn thought he’d swallowed his drink as a statement, and not simply through ignorance.  He nodded, and this time, took a small sip of the harsh liquid, and then placed the glass down on the table between them.

“Now,” Slughorn said, pulling out a quill with a flourish, and starting to write on the previously blank parchment.  “Tell me about your favourite subject.”

“Defence, sir.”

“And what do you like about Defence?”

“Creating spells.”

“Very good.  Am I then also to understand that you have an appreciation for Charms?”

Snape shrugged.  “It’s all right.”

Slughorn raised an eyebrow. “All right?  How can you expect to create your own spells if your charm work isn’t exact?”

“Professor Flitwick doesn’t allow us to experiment,” Snape said, simply.  “Three flicks this way, four flicks that way,” he grumbled.  “What if four flicks this way, and three flicks that way gave better results?”

“I believe that’s why Professor Flitwick is the teacher, Severus,” Slughorn said, trying to keep a hint of amusement from his voice, “and you are his student.”

Snape pursed his lips. “Anyway, Defence is better than Charms. I like duelling.  And learning how to control dark creatures.”

Slughorn peered at him over his paper.  “Controlling dark creatures?  I suppose you took Kettleburn’s class then?”  

“No, sir.”

“No?  May I ask why?”  

“It’s a bit too dangerous, sir.”

Slughorn snorted and took another sip of his drink.  “Indeed. Indeed.  And what else?”

“Herbology could be worse.”

“A glowing recommendation indeed,” Slughorn smiled.  “I will be sure to pass your critique to Pomona.”

Despite himself, Snape smiled back.  “I mean, it’s not bad or anything.  It’s not Divination, or Arithmancy-”

“Divination I can understand,” Slughorn said, cautiously, “But I am surprised to hear that you don’t enjoy Arithmancy.”

“I don’t believe in fortune telling.”

Slughorn gave a tight smile. “I am certain your teachers would disagree with the nature of their subjects.  Arithmancy, in particular, is practically a science-”

Snape snorted. “Ancient Runes is a better way to spend your time.  You can learn a lot from ancient magic.”

“So, Defence and Ancient Runes are your favourite subjects?  With,” Slughorn gave a quick half smile, “Charms being regarded as ‘all right’ and Herbology ‘could be worse’?”

“I didn’t mean it like that about Herbology.  I still wouldn’t want to do it as a career, but I can see it’s useful.”

“Useful for…?”

“Potions, sir. Obviously.”

“Ah, Potions.  I was hoping you would say that.  You had me worried there for a moment.”

“Sir?”

Slughorn smiled kindly. “You are a fan of my subject, are you not, Severus?”

“Yes, sir.  It’s my favourite.”

“Not Defence?”

Snape paused, considering. “Both,” he said, finally.  “I like them both the same.”

“Well, you have a certain amount of talent when it comes to Potions.  When you’re not blowing up your cauldron, that is.”

“Sorry, sir.”  

Slughorn stopped writing. “In fact, it amazes me that a boy who has such a grasp of the theory – and your essays, Severus, are nothing short of excellent-” Snape flushed at Slughorn’s words, not used to receiving such high praise.  Slughorn stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “-it astounds me that you cannot grasp the practical.”

“It’s not that I can’t brew,” Snape muttered, a note of petulance in his voice.  

“The simple potions, certainly,” Slughorn conceded.  “I recall that you were rather competent up until your OWL year.  You used to sit next to Lily Evans, didn’t you?” he said, a small smile creeping across his face.  “Perhaps we should re-arrange the seating so-”

“No!  Don’t!” Snape’s vehement response caused Slughorn to raise an eyebrow.

“Very well.  However, I shall say it plainly:  your NEWT examiners will not take kindly to you exploding the contents of your pewter across the classroom.”  Slughorn tried not to roll his eyes as he watched the angry young man grab his bag and rummage through it.  

“Severus,” Slughorn continued loudly, “unfortunately, as impressive as your understanding of the theoretical is, there isn’t much call for wizards who cannot practice what they preach.  Even, I fear, the Ministry would not be intereste…”  Slughorn trailed off as an intricately annotated textbook was thrust before him, Snape’s thin hand trembling slightly as he held it.

“What’s this?” Slughorn said, taking the proffered book.  He turned the book at an angle, staring at the tiny cramped writing that filled the page. “Thirteen Sopophorous beans?  Crushing them instead of cutting?”  He looked back at Snape, his brow furrowed.  “Clockwise as well as anti-clockwise?”  

“It works.  Sir.”  

Slughorn flicked through the rest of the book, noting the cramped but detailed instructions littering each and every page.  He stood, abruptly, and clicked his fingers, motioning for Snape to follow him back into the classroom.

“Brew.”

“Sir?”

“I want you to brew,” Slughorn said, simply.  “I am going to brew, and you are going to brew.  Get the ingredients from the cupboard.”  He stared at the unmoving boy.  “Well? Come on!  Twelve beans for me, thirteen beans for you.”

Snape nodded.  He almost dropped one of the jars in the storeroom, and he hastily wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his robes before taking a deep breath and continuing.  He laid the ingredients out on the desk, whilst Slughorn gathered the equipment.  Together, under Slughorn’s watchful eye, the young boy brewed using his amendments.

An hour later, Slughorn stared in shock at the perfect potion produced by his student.  “In under an hour,” he noted, glancing at his watch.  “Severus, this is…something special.”

“Sir.”

“And the rest of your book? You’ve done this with other potions?”

Snape shrugged non-committedly.  “Some are better than others.  I can only experiment in class.”

Slughorn tapped his finger against his lips.  “Interesting. You try out the most dangerous things under my guidance?  And that’s why you often blow up your cauldron?”

Snape looked down at his shoes, his voice barely more than a whisper.  “Notyourguidancesir.”  

“Sorry?”  Slughorn stared intently at Snape, but the boy didn’t speak again.  “Please don’t mumble, Severus.  Enunciate!”

“It’s not your guidance, sir.”  He glanced up, and saw Slughorn frowning.  He quickly glanced down.  “It’s the most expensive things, sir,” he muttered, his voice dropping again.  

Slughorn stared at his student.  “Are you telling me that you don’t experiment because you cannot afford the ingredients?”

Snape’s cheeks flushed. “I am not like the other Slytherins. Sir.”

“I am aware of your background,” Slughorn said, awkwardly.  “You are telling me that you could make these refinements to other potions, but you cannot experiment because you do not have access to the ingredients?”

Silence.

“Answer me!  Is that right, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”  

“Every Monday and every Wednesday,” Slughorn said, a note of finality in his tone, “you will come to this office and practice your potions.”

“But sir-”

“No arguments, Severus,” Slughorn said, waving him out of the classroom.  “I will see you here on Wednesday.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful, sir – but what about Quidditch, sir?”  Snape blurted out, desperately.

“Quidditch, Severus?” Slughorn struggled to prevent a hearty laugh escaping.  “I didn’t think you were so inclined.”

“I don’t mind it,” he said, defensively.  “I’m not that keen on flying on a broom, but…”

“But?”

“We’re short, sir.” Snape grimaced.  “We’re down four players since Ave, Mulc, Reggie and Ev got in that brawl last week, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Hooch suspended them for the rest of the year.  You know what Ev’s like when it comes to Quidditch.  He’s said that the rest of us have to turn up to practice, no excus-”

“Enough,” Slughorn said, raising his hand.  “I don’t need to know about the Quidditch tactics of Evan Rosier.  Very well.  You shall attend my classroom on Mondays and Fridays, leaving your Wednesdays free for Quidditch practice.”

Snape hoisted his bag over his shoulder, still looking anxious.  “What about the others, sir?  What should I tell them?  They’ll think you’re giving me preferential treatment if I just turn up here.”

Slughorn smiled.  “I would suggest blowing your cauldron up during the next lesson.  I can easily hand you a detention for a term or two.”

“Sir.”

“Oh, and Severus?”

“Sir?”

“Make it good, won’t you?”

* * *

For once, it wasn’t his own cauldron that erupted.  At the start of the lesson, Snape purposely flung a flobberworm across the room, causing Potter’s cauldron to impressively spew its contents three feet into the air, and across four tables.  Moments later, Snape deliberately threw a bezoar towards Potter’s neighbour, catching Black’s hand as he was in the midst of carefully dribbling precious Dragon’s blood into his mixture.

The fallout was unforgettable.  Legendary, even.  Students yelled and screamed, cauldrons were spilled, and ingredients were flung aside. Without exception, each and every student pointed at Snape when Slughorn’s shouting reached crescendo, and for Snape’s part, he laughed loudly – impudently – as Slughorn issued him with detention.  His mirth only abated when Slughorn lost his temper, and finally shouted that due to his ongoing impertinence, Snape had lost two nights a week for the rest of his Hogwarts career.

Vengeance was sweet. Snape was still smirking to himself as he sauntered out of the classroom, pleased that he’d managed to make use of Slughorn’s instruction and upset both Potter and Black at the same time. He pulled up short when he saw Lily waiting outside the classroom with Potter, her expression furious.  Instantly, Snape’s smile dropped, and he self-consciously pulled his shoulder bag tight to his body.

“You’ve really changed.”

“Says you,” Snape retorted, hotly.  

“Look at his face!” Lily pointed to the marks on James’ cheek where the potion had splattered against him.  “You could’ve disfigured him.”

“Disfigured him?!  It was only a Mandrake and a few Flobberworms,” he snapped.  “It’ll wear off by tomorrow.”  He glared at the pair, and muttered under his breath, “I’d have used Bubotuber pus if I wanted to disfigure him.”

“You’re lucky Slughorn gave you such a harsh punishment, Snivellus, else I’d be reporting this to Dumbledore,” hissed James.

“Go ahead,” Snape sneered. “I’m sure he’ll be shocked that a Slytherin wannabe Death Eater would do such a thing to our beloved Head Boy.”

“Ignore him, James!” Lily pulled on her boyfriend’s arm before he could retort.  Snape wasn’t certain whether she had already grown tired of their argument – tired of him, even - or whether the mention of James’ Head Boy status reminded her that they both had far more to lose than Snape did if their disagreement turned physical.

He felt as if all of the colour had drained from the world when she shook her head and looked him straight in the eye with burning hatred.  “I was so wrong about you.  There’s just no reasoning with you anymore.”  She barged past him, her elbow purposely digging into his ribs as she dragged her boyfriend behind her.

James allowed himself to be pulled along, but ran his wand over his throat, and pointed at Snape whilst mouthing, “You’re dead.”

Snape sank back against the cold stone wall, watching silently as the pair fled up the dungeon stairs, hand-in-hand.  His efforts had almost been worth it, but the distaste in Lily’s eyes had rather ruined his rare moment of triumph.

* * *

Snape’s heart skipped when he walked into the dungeon.  He’d nervously paced outside for several minutes before pushing the door; he knew Slughorn was well respected, and seemed honourable enough – but then, Snape had witnessed too much disappointment to consider any promises a sure thing. He’d half expected the door to swing open and to be confronted with the cauldron scrubbing detention that his classmates believed him to be attending.

Instead, to his pleasure, he saw a long line of ingredients covering the bench, and he almost tripped over his shoelaces in his haste to start work.

True to his word, Slughorn provided all of the ingredients Snape required - even those which he hardly dared touch, knowing from his days in Hogsmeade with his nose pressed up against the glass of Slug and Jiggers that they’d cost someone – Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Slughorn himself, even – a small fortune.  He wasn’t about to blow his opportunity by being greedy or irresponsible.

The first few weeks were fantastic, and Snape made subtle refinements to several potions, and overhauled half a dozen more – but then, Slughorn slipped.  Black earned himself a week’s worth of detentions after tripping Snape in class, causing his carefully brewed potion to splash over the floor, melting one of the flagstones in the process.  Without thinking the action through, Slughorn carelessly issued Black with a week’s worth of detentions – which meant that Snape had to put up the pretence of a real detention.  

Scrubbing out cauldrons would’ve been an unpleasant enough job, but it was made many times worse having to share a bench with a braying, mocking Black – let alone losing his evening of experimental brewing.  Thankfully, Slughorn realised his mistake and let Black off on Thursday night with a stern warning, and a lament about how sincerely sad he was that he hadn’t had Sirius in Slytherin like the rest of his family.

Black had been his usual subtle self, crowing loudly with Potter about how he’d evaded detention, whilst Snape was having to endure months for his earlier transgression – but Snape was so relieved to hear that he’d got his Friday experimentation day back, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  

* * *

“Excuse me, Professor,” the first year said, breathing heavily at the doorway of the Transfiguration class.  “Professor Slughorn says that Severus Snape must report to his office immediately.”

“This is most irregular,” Professor McGonagall said, drawing herself up to her full height.  “What’s this about, Severus?”

“I don’t know, Professor,” Snape replied, honestly.  He looked at the Hufflepuff in the doorway.

“I don’t know either, Professor,” said the young Hufflepuff, “but Professor Slughorn and Professor Dumbledore are together and waiting.”

“Well,” said Professor McGonagall, slowly, “if Professor Dumbledore has requested such a thing, then we must acquiesce.  Severus, collect your things, and you can return here tonight after dinner to continue your classwork.”

“I’ve got Quidditch pract-”

“Tonight,” McGonagall said, raising her voice, “or you do not have permission to leave now.”

“Yes, Professor. Tonight, Professor.”

“Good, now go.”  

Severus scooped up his papers, and – arms full - followed the Hufflepuff down the corridor. “What’s this about then?”

“Dunno,” replied the Hufflepuff.  “But Slughorn looked very excited.  He gave me a whole box of crystallised pineapple for coming to get you.”

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Snape knocked on the door to the Potions classroom and was surprised when Professor Dumbledore swept the door open.  “Ah, Severus.  Do come in.”

He stepped into the room, past Dumbledore and his eyes widened when he saw the man standing at the back of the room.  Slughorn appeared to be bursting with pride.

“This is the boy?”

“Severus Snape,” Slughorn said, urging Snape forwards to shake the hands of the guest.  

“Snape?”  The man raised his eyebrows as he pulled out of the handshake.  “Can’t say I’ve heard that before.”

Snape glowered. Malfoy was right; this was what his life was going to be like – forever cursed by a Muggle moniker.  

“Ah, Libatius, what’s in a name?” said Professor Dumbledore.  “I do believe Horace invited you here for a demonstration?”

“Sir?”

Slughorn placed a hammy hand on Snape’s bony shoulder.  “This boy can do things with a cauldron that will make your head spin.”

“I doubt that very much,” said Borage, scowling.  “Horace, my dear fellow, you have been inviting me here for years.  Each year you promise so much, yet your students deliver so little.  I have told you my terms before, and yet you still insist on this charade.”  

“This time,” Slughorn pronounced, proudly, “you’ll see.”

“Hmmph.”

* * *

“Now, Severus,” Dumbledore said, firmly, “I believe you have an appointment with Professor McGonagall?”

Snape glanced down at the watch Lucius Malfoy had gifted him for his seventeenth birthday.  “Yes, sir.”  How had he missed dinner?  He’d been working for hours on end.  He collected his bag and he quietly approached Slughorn and Borage, who were peering over several of his cauldrons.  “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said, holding his hand out.  Borage nodded, and Snape had the feeling that he’d been utterly dismissed.

“Off you go, Severus,” Slughorn said kindly, and with a sinking stomach, Snape departed.

“Severus?”

Snape turned at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice.  The Headmaster passed him a note.  “Pass this to Professor McGonagall, please, Severus.”

“Sir.”

* * *

Professor McGonagall scanned the note, her expression not betraying her feelings.  “Very well,” she said, calling a house elf and passing the note to it. A moment later, the house elf returned with a spread of food from that night’s feast.

“It appears, Mr Snape, that you missed dinner.  I thought I did not see you in the Great Hall tonight.  I have been informed that you are to eat _whilst_ you study, although please do not smear any sauces on your paper. I refuse to mark parchment that is covered in food.”  

He sprawled across the desk, his nose close to the parchment as he filled the page full of his tiny, cramped writing.  McGonagall rolled her eyes; no matter what scathing comments she wrote on his essays, he always managed to turn in more than was necessary.  There was simply no dissuading the boy from his research.

After an hour, she stood, and dismissed the Slytherin.  “I’m sorry about Quidditch,” she huffed, “but your classwork is more important.  There are only a handful of games left in the season, of course.”  

Snape nodded, but as he stood to leave, the door burst open.  “Well done, my boy!” Slughorn boomed, marching in to the room.  

“Horace!”

“Minerva!” Slughorn returned her greeting bombastically, mistaking McGonagall’s annoyance for enthusiasm.  “Now Severus, down to the dungeons and gather your things.  Professor Dumbledore is making the necessary arrangements with your parents as we speak!”

“Sir?”

“Horace, what on earth is this about?”

“Libatius Borage wants you as an apprentice, Severus.”

Snape’s knees went weak, and he gripped the desk before him.

“The pay is a little ungenerous, but then, that’s Libatius for you,” Slughorn admitted.  “What you’ll pick up in experience, knowledge and connections – well, my boy, that’s priceless.  Priceless!”  

“He’s not sat his NEWTs,” McGonagall said disapprovingly.  “You’ll affect the boy’s career if he leaves without them.”

“Oh, Libatius has agreed to special dispensation,” Slughorn said, waving his hand.  “Details, details.  With an apprenticeship under Borage, young master Snape here won’t want for anything else.”

“I’ll be a Potions Master, sir?”

“Indeed, Severus. You’ll be a Potions Master.”  

**Author's Note:**

> I post a lot of meta about Snape being manipulated by the Death Eater regime, and perhaps gaining a Potions Mastery (if, indeed, he did!) because Voldemort opened the required doors.
> 
> This prompt was a response to that - someone wanted to see Snape’s talent for Potions being acknowledged, and him gaining his Potions Mastery on his own merit.


End file.
